


Running Back to You

by pennflinn



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Angst, Barry Whump, Episode Tag, Hurt/Comfort, Missing Scene, One Shot, Time Travel, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-23
Updated: 2015-02-23
Packaged: 2018-03-14 16:50:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3418256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pennflinn/pseuds/pennflinn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No matter what state he's in, Barry runs home. On occasion, however, he needs someone to run to him.</p><p>Written for a Tumblr anon requesting Barry whump, topped off with a dash of angst.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Running Back to You

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Along with this being my first foray into Flash fanfiction, it is also my first time posting on AO3. As such, I'm sorry for any inaccuracies or mistakes along the way.
> 
> Some general notes: Though most of these vignettes are missing/extended scenes from episodes (therefore, spoilers through 1x14), I do venture off into future territory, especially in terms of time travel. This is all intentionally vague because it is all speculation. For this bit, I've borrowed loosely from "The Flashpoint Paradox" and the episode "Divided We Fall" from "Justice League Unlimited."
> 
> Other warnings: I ship everything and nothing in this show. There are traces of Snowbarry here, but nothing explicit. Please be cautioned, as well, that there are aspects of depression hinted at near the end of this fic.

No matter what had happened, no matter what state he was in, Barry always ran home. Even after fighting nasty metahumans for hours in the dark streets of Central City, he was back at S.T.A.R. Labs in a second—often bloodied and in desperate need of a few dozen burgers, but triumphant. And, despite Caitlin’s empty threat that she wouldn’t always fix his broken bones, the speedster always dutifully returned to her side.

In a world of inconsistencies, it was something they took for granted. The completion of a mission. The lock-up of that week’s supervillain. Barry rejoining the family, and the four of them healing in their own ways.

Caitlin hadn’t recognized this magnetic power of S.T.A.R. Labs, their home outside of home, until the first encounter with the “man of steel.” Nothing had been amiss; she, Cisco, and Wells had been strolling leisurely into the lab, discussing trivialities and poking fun at each other, when they happened upon Barry’s prone form.

The distinctive crimson of the suit was the first thing Caitlin noticed, and it took a second for her to process what she was seeing. He might have been sleeping, lying stretched out in the middle of the floor, but the sight of him unmoving was instantly unsettling. Her concern spiking, she ran around the desk and knelt at his side, placing a hand on his shoulder to turn him. “Barry?”

He groaned as she rolled him over, and Caitlin couldn’t contain her gasp. Aside from the blood on his face, his hand was what immediately drew her attention—curled loosely against his chest, it looked limp and twisted, his fingers sticking out at unnatural angles.

Cisco was also on his knees, and Wells wheeled quickly forward to join them. “What’s wrong with him?” Cisco asked, looking just as panicked as Caitlin felt.

Instead of answering, Caitlin snapped into what Cisco dubbed _critical doctor mode._ “Get me a stretcher and my medical cart. We need x-rays.” With one last worried glance, Cisco bolted. Barry’s hair was damp with sweat as Caitlin ran her fingers through it. “Barry, you with us?”

All she got was another moan in response. If he was conscious, it was only halfway. His eyes fluttered but remained stubbornly closed; if Caitlin had a shot at figuring out what had happened to him, she would have to do it on her own.

By the time Cisco returned with her supplies, she had ripped open Barry’s shirt and was busy pressing on his abdomen. Thankfully, it didn’t appear that any of his ribs were broken, but the deep purple bruises along his chest and stomach suggested the possibility of internal damage. His hand, and his lack of consciousness, was what worried Caitlin the most.

“Looks like a mugging,” Cisco said, coming back to a squat. At Caitlin’s pointed glance, he raised his eyebrows. “Except much worse, obviously.”

“Help me get him up.” Wary of the damaged hand and head injury, the two of them gingerly lifted their friend onto the stretcher.

“It had to be a metahuman,” Wells said behind them. In the chaos, he had grabbed a tablet and was typing rapidly into it. “Although, what kind might have done this—and why Barry didn’t call—”

But Caitlin’s attention was back to her injured friend. All of the jostling had apparently been enough to rouse him, and he looked dazedly around. Cisco’s hand was on his arm, keeping him flat. “Barry. Easy.”

“Had to get back,” Barry slurred. His eyes were dangerously unfocused. It wasn’t hard to put two and two together: likely a severe concussion. “Had to get back here…”

“Can you tell us what happened?” Caitlin pressed.

But it was no use. In his bleary, half-cognizant state, Barry looked hardly able to piece together his surroundings, let alone memories of the past few hours. “This was the only place I could go,” he said, squeezing his eyes closed as Caitlin pressed him back against the stretcher. He then squinted up at her, a flicker of a smile on his lips. “Knew it’d be safe here.”

Although she was more focused on his injuries and the logistics of healing them than anything else, she reflected later on those words. When the full story came out later, about his fight (and flight) with Girder, she compared it with the staggering image of him lying unconscious on the S.T.A.R. Labs floor. It was a miracle, really, that he’d managed to get all the way back to the lab before collapsing. She recalled the image often, as painful as it was, and mulled it over.

He could have run anywhere.

* * *

 

“Are you okay?” she said into the intercom, one eye still on the computer monitors. Wells’ plan, sending sound waves through the car radios, should have been successful in theory, but Barry’s vitals were less than promising. “Barry? Can you hear me?”

There was another moment of silence, static, then Barry’s voice came roughly back through the speakers. “Kind of?”

She and Wells exchanged a glance, equal parts relief and exasperation. Wells leaned forward. “Alright, we need you to get back here as soon as possible with Hartley. We can’t risk him getting away again.”

There was something off in Wells’ voice, Caitlin thought, something almost regretful, but she brushed it aside. Barry’s voice came through a haze of static. “Um, give me a minute?”

With The Flash, an estimation like that was almost always accurate. Exactly one minute later, Barry was at the entrance to the lab, a half-aware Hartley draped across one shoulder. The pair of them looked, frankly, pathetic. Both were panting quite heavily, sagging, bloodied. Cisco, with grim satisfaction hardened on his face, immediately moved forward to collect Hartley and led him out of the room.

“He needs medical attention,” Barry said, motioning vaguely at the departing villain. Despite the quiet of the lab, he was yelling. Minor hearing loss, Caitlin suspected. “His hands—the gloves exploded.”

“I’ll see to it,” Caitlin said. Then she added matter-of-factly, “Right now I’m more worried about the fact that your organs were literally shredding themselves apart two minutes ago.”

“Oh, right.”

Caitlin was experienced enough to anticipate his fall before it happened; with speed worthy of The Flash himself, she was across the room and catching him around the chest as he stumbled. Up close, she could see the bright red blood around his lips, an observation that was more than a little concerning. “Thanks.”

“You know, you probably shouldn’t have run after what just happened to you,” Caitlin scolded. “Your insides have taken enough of a beating as it is. We could have gone to you.”

"Too slow,” Barry said hoarsely, with a cheeky smile her direction. “Besides, you told me to come back as soon as possible.”

At Caitlin’s venomous look his way, Wells put up his hands in defense.

Together, Barry and Caitlin limped across the room to one of the medical rooms. When they passed Wells, Barry nodded to him.

“Thanks,” he said. “You saved my life.”

Wells’ smile was thin, and Caitlin noted at once how old he looked. “My pleasure.”

They shuffled a few more steps. Barry’s hand was warm on her shoulder, trembling, and she tightened her grip on his waist. “Alright,” she said. “Let’s get you patched up.”

* * *

 

The look on Barry’s face was, to put it simply, guilty. He stepped over the threshold to the lab, one hand on the back of his neck, offering a pathetic half-smile to Caitlin.

"What happened?” she asked. “I take it you didn’t catch our Bonnie and Clyde?”

“Not exactly,” Barry said, moving forward. “They kind of…got away.”

Caitlin raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Yeah…” Barry looked at the floor. “They, uh…” He shrugged. “Is it bad to say that they shot me?”

He lifted his hand from his neck. Though the blood was similar in color to his suit, the shine of it on his gloves was unmistakable. Heart leaping to her throat, Caitlin scrambled forward.

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” Barry said, letting her lead him to a table. She pulled away the cowl of his costume and saw the alarming half-inch hole in the back of his neck that was currently leaking blood down his spine. Thankfully, it didn’t look too deep, though Caitlin couldn’t help the involuntary spasm of nausea the sight gave her. Not because of the sight of blood—because of the implications of the placement of that wound, the implications of a reality where Barry wasn’t fast enough to get away from the bullet.

Fully aware that Barry didn’t want to draw attention to himself, she shot him a withering look and reached over to a computer. “Dr. Wells,” she said. “Please come to the medical bay. Barry’s gotten himself shot.”

Barry whined. “No need to be so melodramatic.”

She grabbed a cotton swab fiercely and exhaled loudly.

“It’s not so bad,” Barry continued, rolling something over in his hand. “I just figured I should have you check it out. Too bad Cisco’s not here. Look at how sweet this is. I caught it in midair.” He held up the object, which Caitlin now recognized as the bullet itself. She was too jittery to humor him at the moment, so she settled for her best unimpressed look. The speedster sulked, looking down at the thing that had quite nearly taken his life. “Cisco would think it was cool.”

He winced as she pressed the cotton swab to his neck, and wisely changed the subject.

* * *

 

“I thought you had a date?”

“I did,” Barry responded. He leaned heavily against the wall. His sudden appearance in the lab had surprised all of them, and even more so because of the civvies he was currently dressed in. Strange as it was to think of Barry exclusively as The Flash, it was also slightly off-putting to see him in jeans and a sweater like a normal human being. “There was a huge fire down the street from the restaurant. I couldn’t just let that go.”

“So you ditched your date?” Cisco said. “Dude, you’re allowed to have a day off every once in a while.”

Caitlin frowned. Something was off about Barry. He winced heavily as he shifted against the wall to move closer to them.

“Were there signs of metahuman activity?” Wells asked.

Barry shook his head, all at once very pale. “Nope, not that I could tell.”

Everything with Barry happened quickly, so Caitlin had barely registered this change in complexion before her friend was sliding down the wall to the floor, one leg extended outward.

The three rushed forward, converging on the scene.

“I may have had an accident,” Barry said, waving off Caitlin’s attempts to feel his forehead. “As in, the building may have collapsed.” He motioned at his leg. “Pretty sure that’s broken. Like, really broken.”

“Why didn’t you call us?” Wells asked.

Ruefully, Barry reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone—or, what used to be his phone. It was so badly damaged that it hardly resembled a mobile device.

“So you ran all the way here on a broken leg?” Cisco asked while Caitlin began her assessment of Barry’s mangled leg. “That’s hardcore.”

“And stupid,” Caitlin interjected.

“Walked, actually,” said Barry, hissing at Caitlin’s touch. “Couldn’t run.”

Caitlin cast him a sharp look. “You walked all the way here? Why not go to Joe’s? I’m sure it would have been closer.”

Barry paused, then shrugged halfheartedly. “Didn’t think about that.”

Cisco let out a bark of laughter, and Wells rolled away to grab medical supplies, muttering something under his breath. Kneeling there on the floor, Caitlin looked up at Barry and found that he was also looking at her. His gaze caught her off guard. Past the pain, it was apologetic.

* * *

 

Pulse-pounding fear was now a normal part of the job, but it was a familiarity that was still unwelcome. It zinged through Caitlin’s veins, chilling her to the bone, as she watched the monitors go blank.

“What happened?” she asked. “Barry? _Barry_?”

Beside her, Cisco worked furiously at the keyboard, though she didn’t know what he was trying to accomplish. One minute Barry’s signal had been there, his breath coming loud through the speakers and his vitals displayed clearly on the monitors. Everything had been accounted for—heartbeat, blood pressure, even glucose levels—but now everything was gone.

“This happened before, remember? When Plastique blew up his suit,” Cisco said, probably trying to reassure himself as much as Caitlin. His fingers now hovered uselessly over the desk. Caitlin noted that his hands were dead still, not trembling like hers. It wasn’t in Cisco’s nature to be inert, but panic and necessity seemed to drive him to this unique stillness.

“Yes, this happened before when his suit _exploded_ ,” Caitlin reminded him. “That’s not exceptionally comforting.”

The inactivity on the screens stretched out agonizingly, but Caitlin kept her eyes fixed on the monitors, willing them to come back to life, to show a heartbeat, to give them the steady sounds of Barry’s breath. Nothing.

Deep down, this felt wrong.

The two of them stood frozen there for what seemed to be an eternity. Surely any moment now Barry would come screeching through the door, hair mussed up, a grin on his face and a sensible explanation on his lips. Any moment, their panic would be unfounded, and they would laugh over whatever misadventure had caused Barry’s suit to short out.

She didn’t know how much she relied on those times, the relief following the fear, of seeing Barry run time and time again back through the door. Of knowing that she could fix whatever bones he had broken, whatever new torture the world had invented for him. Because he always ran home, and when he did, they all knew things would be okay.

No, she refused to accept that he was gone.

She was just reaching for her phone to call Wells, terror bitter on her tongue, when everything blinked back to life.

“Barry?” Cisco said, jumping forward toward the screen, which now displayed everything Caitlin was used to. “You there?”

Heavy, labored breathing followed.

“Barry.” Caitlin tried to sound firm, authoritative, but the minute of radio silence they had just experienced had shaken her more than she cared to admit. “Tell us what happened. Are you okay?”

One look at the monitors gave her that answer—his vitals were at dangerous levels, his heartrate much too fast even for him, his body lit up with red warning lights—but she needed to hear it from him. Which was why, when he shut off his communicator a moment later, she knew something was horribly, devastatingly wrong.

“We’re going after him,” she said, already swinging her coat off of her chair. “Get his location.”

“Already got it,” Cisco said, and they were out the door without another word.

Cisco was usually a fairly good driver, but he drove like the devil. The GPS took them outside of Central City, past the traffic and activity that usually dominated their lives, even past the suburbs where Joe lived. Caitlin kept a close eye on the GPS screen to make sure Barry hadn’t moved, but the destination remained worriedly fixed.

“There’ll be an explanation for this,” Cisco said. “Just wait.”

Despite his show of confidence, he kept his eyes on the road. Caitlin watched the speedometer make a gradual ascent.

The scenery flashed by until they were forced to turn onto a gravel road. This road led them up a grassy hill, past a sunny but abandoned park. Just past this park, the GPS dot blinked red.

“Here,” Caitlin said. “Pull over.”

The two of them clambered out of the car and looked around wildly, combing the area as they progressed forward. Even under the circumstances, there was no denying that the view from this hill was astounding—Central City was laid out before them like a painting, S.T.A.R. Labs glimmering faintly in the mass of buildings. The world seemed so big from up here that Caitlin’s yells for Barry felt swallowed up, insignificant.

Cisco was the first one to spot it, a trail of blackened grass that seemed to originate out of nowhere. Remembering Barry’s first runs, the sparks that he often left in his wake, Caitlin’s pulse quickened. They followed the charred trail for a few minutes, past the park itself, to a crest of the hill that was sheltered by an enormous tree. There, Cisco put a hand on Caitlin’s arm and pointed.

Bits of dirt and stones hovered in the air, sparking with blue electricity. Everything was still but buzzing with potential, and the force of it reached the pair of scientists even at a distance. In the midst of this, sitting against the tree, facing Central City, was unmistakably Barry.

Although Caitlin was sure Cisco’s hand was meant to be a warning, she rushed forward anyway with a cry. Barry looked up, and as Caitlin approached she saw that his face was fuzzy around the edges, indistinct.

“Stay away,” he warned weakly. “Please, just leave me here.”

“Not gonna happen, buddy.” Cisco was now at Caitlin’s side. Despite wanting to run to Barry, to put a hand on his shoulder and steady him, she was afraid of getting close. Barry’s whole body was vibrating, flickering, practically radiating energy.

“Take a breath, Barry,” she said. “Your system is overloading. You need to try and calm down.”

She was aware how ineffective that phrase was, but she was driven by the need to do _something_. Without knowing the circumstances surrounding this infliction, there wasn’t much she could do but try and get Barry to control his own body. From his posture, and from his complete lack of response, it appeared that he had all but given up.

“I went back,” he said. Because of the vibrations, his voice was unnaturally low, and the sound was chilling. “I saw my mom.”

Caitlin didn’t dare look at Cisco. They had discussed time travel, but this—

“Didn’t think I’d come back,” he continued wearily. “Didn’t want to.”

“Take a breath,” Caitlin tried again, this time extending a hand to Barry, but still not daring to touch him. “Your body is destroying itself. Stay with me, okay? Stay with me. We’re right here with you.”

“I knew I was going to fail,” said Barry. “I couldn’t save her.” Then shuddered, a violent ripple that pulsed outward from his core. It seemed to Caitlin that his face was flickering in and out of existence. “Couldn’t save her.”

As much as her heart was shattering in two, Caitlin forced herself to remain calm. Irrationally, perhaps, she sank to her knees and crawled. Even the ground itself was vibrating, sending shockwaves up her arms, electricity lifting her hair up. Grasping the blackened grass, she crawled, and when she was beside Barry, she took a deep breath.

“I’m so sorry,” she said. “Barry, I’m sorry. But we need you here.”

Then she placed a hand on his arm.

The vibrations were stronger than ever, making her whole arm tremble, and for a moment she understood everything. She understood the force that drove Barry forward: the force that made each impulse, each jolt, an invitation to escape. The force that felt like adrenaline, and sharp wind, and streaks of color. She understood it, and she felt it tugging her forward, tugging Barry back.

Then, slowly, Barry’s arm became more substantial under her touch, and the vibrations slowed. Around her, dirt fell back to the earth, and the humming sound, which she hadn’t even registered, ceased. Now it was just Barry, limp against the tree, his muscles trembling not with energy but with weakness. Cisco was opposite Caitlin, also offering silent support, as Barry came back to the world. His suit was spotted with blood, his shoulder and leg mangled by what appeared to be bullet wounds. That would explain the blood underneath the wallpaper of his old house.

“Go,” he said again, and, thankfully, his voice was back to normal. “I’m asking you, please, to leave me.”

“These aren’t life-threatening wounds,” Caitlin said. She longed to inspect them closer, but for now she clung to Barry’s arm as if that might keep him anchored to this world. “Why didn’t you come back to the lab?”

He was silent, his heavy gaze fixed on Central City in the distance, and at last Caitlin comprehended.

 _I couldn’t save her_. Like a dying animal, wounded and unwilling to be fixed, he had crawled off to a quiet place to accept his fate.

“We’re not letting you go that easy,” Cisco said. “You may have given up on yourself, but we’re not giving up on you yet.”

“I failed,” Barry repeated. He sucked in a shaky breath. The effects of the time travel, the degeneration of his body, were evident in the weary lines on his face.

“You didn’t fail,” Caitlin said firmly. “You did the impossible, and you survived. You have done more in one lifetime than many can hope to accomplish. The bad things that happen to you— _none_ of that is your fault.” She paused, gauging his reaction. “And you have to accept that, Barry Allen.”

“I’m just…tired.”

“I know.” Caitlin passed a hand through his hair and swallowed her own fear.

There was a long stretch of silence, of waiting, of watching. Over Central City, rainclouds gathered like grim spectators to the events below. Caitlin could see all of it: the water and the red bridge, the buildings with their flickering windows, the distant blue and red lights that zig-zagged through the city. A map of their lives, laid out in gold and gray.

“Thanks for coming after me,” said Barry quietly.

“Always,” Caitlin replied. She squeezed his arm. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Please leave a comment if you liked what you saw or if you have any suggestions.
> 
> Till next time,
> 
> Penn


End file.
